Saturday, April 21, 2007

Endless hordes of poor white trashthey never seem to have enough cashthey spent it all on meth and hashif you don't watch 'em they'll steal in a flashI don't even want to know about that rash

Can't live without their ciggies and snuff'course that makes buying food toughfor that they'll just jack cookies & stuffthey can live on something to puffor (for a special occasion) maybe some paint to huff

They get pissed off when I check their IDeven though it's clear they're 73OK, so you're no longer a licenseemaybe that's cause of your recent crime spreenice try, you're not taking the booze for free

Dinner is whatever Stouffers will freezebasically anything swimming in grease & cheeseALSO donuts, cookies, pies and Little Debbiesare they concerned that they can't see their kneesHell no! Can you go get them some riding carts, please

Covered in dirt and carrying a smelltheir children all free to run and yellfifty bucks says only 10% can spella house on wheels is where most of them dwella good pair of overalls is for them like Chanel

It's always the people who shouldn't procreatethat do so at a rabbit's rateold or young, grandma or jailbaitthey've ALL got crazy drama goin' with their matetheir episode of Maury is gonna be great!

Andrea,I am serious when I say that you are a gifted writer. This poem flowed so beautifully, and almost could have been a rap song (except you have more talent)! Your words create a picture in the reader's mind of what you see and how you feel. Rock on, girlfriend.